


ED

by bxxpbxxprichie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Georgie is ALIVE, M/M, Sad, eddie is kind of a dick in this one, reddie broke up, richie threatens bill at one point, stan is a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bxxpbxxprichie/pseuds/bxxpbxxprichie
Summary: Richie honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hungry. At this point he was so used to telling himself that he wasn’t hungry that it was actually working. Years. It had taken years to condition it into himself, but it was well worth it. Not a soul knew that he went days without eating. Sure, he had times with the rest of the gang when he would munch on whatever snacks they’d pulled out, but real meals were few and far between.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt request I had on Tumblr that turned into a multi part. It is still not finished.

Richie honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hungry. At this point he was so used to telling himself that he wasn’t hungry that it was actually working. Years. It had taken years to condition it into himself, but it was well worth it. Not a soul knew that he went days without eating. Sure, he had times with the rest of the gang when he would munch on whatever snacks they’d pulled out, but real meals were few and far between.

Out of habit, Richie stared at himself in the mirror of Bill’s bathroom. He did this pretty much any time he was in there without a shirt on. When he was a kid, when they were all kids, they didn’t notice the way his ribs poked out. They didn’t notice the way his stomach poofed at the bottom. They didn’t notice his stomach growling, and if they did it wasn’t a big deal because he was going to go home afterwards and eat. They thought so anyways.

These days, Richie avoided taking his shirt off at all costs. He avoided hugging anyone for too long. He shielded himself with flannels and jeans, and during the hottest days of the summer he would wear short-sleeved shirts. Anything that didn’t hug his skin was good. They made him look normal.

Without a second thought, he began unbuttoning the flannel. He had to replace it with one of Bill’s shirts, because Beverly had spilled soda on him. He was nervous about it. It wasn’t one of his shirts. 

The red and black checkered flannel fell to the floor, and Richie stared again. His eyes trailing over his body. It made him feel sick, but it was like a train wreck every time. He couldn’t look away. 

His stomach rumbled.

_I’m not hungry_  he told himself.

Richie took a deep breath and reached for Bill’s shirt, and just seconds before he slipped it on the bathroom door opened.

Panic fell through Richie as he turned to look at whoever had walked in on him, only to see it was little Georgie.

“Richie?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

Richie pulled the shirt on, and picked up his flannel, throwing a grin on his face. “Hey, Squirt.” He ruffled the younger boys hair.

“Why do you look like that?” The younger boys voice sounded a little sad, as if he knew. As if he could see right through Richie’s facade.

“Everyone looks different. Don’t worry about it, okay? And don’t tell Bill for me. I wouldn’t want him to worry, would you?” Richie smiled once more at the younger boy.

Georgie shook his head, and Richie walked past him, and back out to his friends.


	2. Chapter 2

Richie’s arms felt too bare in Bill’s T-Shirt. He just hoped the other’s didn’t notice the way his collarbone poked out right where the shirt scooped. He shifted his hair a bit, hoping it would help in some way, but it definitely wasn’t that long. At least his arms were normal looking, in a way. Everyone knew Richie was thin. Of course he was. He was lanky, tall, gangly. 

There was a crash in the other room, followed by a short “Billy!” from the younger brother. Bill rushed out of the living room, and Richie took his spot back on the floor in front of the sofa. His eyes returned to the screen. “Did I miss anything?” He asked Stan.

“You’ve seen this movie like ten times, Rich. No, you didn’t miss anything.” His voice was deadpanned, and while he sounded like he was tired of Richie’s shit, Richie knew he was just joking around. Richie had been joking too.

Their shoulder’s pressed together slightly when a jump scare fell over the screen, although Richie leaned forward, hoping to avoid a second splash of Beverly’s drink, until he saw that it was no longer in her hands. He leaned back, and tried to not think too much into the fact that his bony shoulder was flush with Stan’s. If he moved away it would be too suspicious.

Usually, Richie didn’t think too much into his skinniness. However, since he had just pointed it out to himself in the bathroom, it was on the forefront of his mind. It was sad, really, how much he had let it affect him. He hadn’t been swimming with the losers in years, using different excuses just about every time, most of them being sick on the days that they wanted to go.

“Are you cold?” Stan whispered to him, “You’re shaking…or are you just  _scared_ , Tozier?” The teasing words sent an actual shiver up Richie’s spine, and he scoffed at Stan.

He was scared, but not of the movie.

“I’m fine, asshole…give me your jacket.” He was a little cold, although the excuse was good.

Stan shrugged off his jacket and handed it over. Richie pulled it on and instantly felt more relaxed in his skin, and less like people could see right through him. Stan’s jacket was big on him, even if it shouldn’t have been. He zipped it up, covering his collarbones.

Their shoulders pressed together again. Richie was letting his thought’s trail away, his mind high in the sky by being surrounded in the other boys warmth, and smell, before Bill walked back into the room and broke it.

“Hey, Rich? Why don’t we go throw your shirt in the washer so it’ll be good when you leave.” Bill asked him, arms crossed over his chest.

Richie knew that face. He wanted to avoid anything Bill was about to say to him.

“Can’t you do it by yourself?” Richie asked, holding up the flannel towards the other male.

“No, I can’t. C’mon, Tozier.” The taller male didn’t wait for a response as he turned and started walking out of the room.

“Whatever you did, good luck.” Eddie quipped from his spot on the couch next to Bev, a grin on his lips.

“I did your mom, Kaspbrak.” Richie flipped his ex boyfriend off and walked out of the room with his shirt in hand.

Bill was already in the laundry room when Richie got in there, the washer already running. Bill was throwing some clothes into it, before his hand stuck out for Richie’s shirt. Richie swallowed thickly, and handed it over.

“Georgie’s worried about you, which is pretty normal, but this sounded different.” After putting the shirt in the wash, Bill closed the lid and turned to look at Richie. “So, do you want to tell me what’s going on, or should I tell you what Georgie just told me?”

Richie shrugged, “I don’t know what either of you is talking about. You know kids and their imaginations. We used to think there was some killer clown on the loose, remember? When Georgie went missing for a week?”

Bill shook his head, “That was different. That was us trying to deal with grief. You know that. Georgie has nothing to grief over, so why is he telling me that you look like a skeleton without a shirt on?” 

Richie shrugged, “It’s almost Halloween, Bill. You know, Trick or Treat? Looks like you were tricked.” He turned to walk out of the room, when Bill grabbed his wrist. 

“Richard,  _please_. If there’s something going on you’ve got to tell us. You’ve got to let us  _help_ you.” Bill told him.

Richie tugged his wrist out of Bill’s hand, “There’s nothing going on. I don’t have a problem. And tell your little brother to keep his damn mouth shut…You should too.” Richie stalked out of the room.

He took his place next to Stan once more, his heart beating wildly. He’d just threatened one of his best friends. What the fuck was wrong with him?


	3. Chapter 3

Richie leaned heavily against Stan’s side once back in the living room, even going so far as to lean his head on the other’s shoulder. He hoped Bill would keep his mouth shut, other wise he was going to kick his ass.

“You okay?” Stan asked, his arm slipping around the boys waist. The two of them had a tendency to keep contact to a minimum when around the other losers, mostly because they didn’t want Eddie to get upset. But if Richie was upset about something to the point of breaking that, Stan knew he had to comfort him some how.

“I’ll be fine. I just pissed Bill off about something. It’s gonna be okay.” Richie promised, snuggling more into his boyfriends side. His hand slid down to rest between Stan’s legs, just sitting there for comfort. Richie was always more comfortable when he held onto things, and Stan’s thighs were definitely high on the list.

“Can you guys  _not_?” Eddie huffed above them, resulting in another flipping of the bird from Richie.

“He’s  _upset_ , Eddie.” Stan told him, turning around to look at the shorter male.

“Well, he probably did something stupid to piss Bill off! He doesn’t have a  _right_ to be upset!” Eddie’s voice raised over the TV.

Stan shifted to get up, before Richie grabbed onto him. “It’s okay, Stan. We can just go. I don’t feel very wanted here anyways.” Richie told him. 

Usually, he’d use humor to cover his emotions. But, Stan told him that showing his real emotions helped him, and everyone else around him understand things better, so he was trying to do it. Not that he had much will to joke around anyways.

The two stood up, and Richie hugged Bev with promises of calling her tomorrow morning, and waved bye to all the guys. Stan just glared heavily at Eddie, before following Richie out of the Denbrough house.

 “I know you broke up with him, but it’s been like a year. He should get the fuck over it already.” Stan huffed, getting into his car.

Richie got into the passenger side, and shrugged a bit. “He was fine until we started dating.” He points out to Stan, reaching across the center console to hook his hand in the boys thigh.

“It’s not like I didn’t talk to him about my feelings for you before hand. He just needs to grow up.” Stan shook his head a bit.

Richie shrugged again, “I just couldn’t handle him anymore, you know? The constant nagging, the lack of sex, he’s as worse as his mom.” Those were lies. Richie actually broke up with Eddie because he wanted the boy to find someone better. He wanted someone that could give Eddie everything.

Eddie was starting to want to take things to the next level, but Richie…he couldn’t bare thought to Eddie seeing him in such a state, so he broke up with him.

And now here he was. He had been dating Stan for about three months now. He was happy with the boy, really. Stan also wasn’t too bossy about things he knew Richie didn’t like, and while they made out a lot he wasn’t super handsy. 

“So you broke up with Eddie because of a lack of sex, but you wont have sex with me?” Stan teased softly.

“I’m just…” Richie trailed off a bit, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the seat.

“I know. You’re uncomfortable with your body, and I get that. But I’m not going to judge you ever, Richie… For your body, anyways. I don’t care if you don’t have abs or muscles.” Stan reached down to his lap with one hand, and threaded his fingers with Richie’s.

Richie sighed, and brushed his free hand through his hair. “Can we just not talk about this right now?” He licked his lips, and turned his head to look out the window.

“Do I need to beat Bill up?” Stan asked suddenly, as he parked outside of the Tozier house.

“No, I fucked up. It’s my fault, and I don’t really want to talk about it either.” Richie leaned over, and pressed a kiss to Stan’s jaw. “Why don’t we go up to my room and you can help me get my mind on…other things.” 

The two exited Stan’s car, and headed inside of the Tozier house. Richie didn’t even look at his parents when they passed, and they didn’t look back. Once inside of Richie’s room, they both rid themselves of their shoes, and got into the messily made bed. 

Their lips touched immediately, although the rest of their bodies stayed apart. Richie didn’t ever press himself too tightly against Stan, until they were both really into it. Stan didn’t notice anything was off with Richie grinding against them. 

Tongue’s battled, fingers tugged on hair, squeezed hips, brushed up shirts…higher, and higher, and- 

“Richie?” Stan pulled from the kiss, lips red and swollen.

Richie fell from his daze and jerked away from Stan.

“Richie…is that..was that..” Stan reached for him again, and Richie flinched.

“It’s nothing, Stan…you should go.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Is that what you’ve been hiding?” Stan asked, ignoring the noriet’s words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Richie huffed, standing up from his bed and smoothing his shirt back down.

“Yes you do. You’ve been hiding something from all of us forever. I just figured you’d tell me eventually and I wasn’t going to push you.” Stan stood, and followed him over to the window.

It was raining now, a soft pitter patter chorusing against the window, filling the silence. Richie didn’t answer in favor of pushing his window open.

“Richie.” Stan spoke again.

“What, Stan? I asked you to leave.” Richie huffed, pulling his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket.

“Can you not do that right now?” Stan asks, trying to stay as calm as possible.

“Do what?” Richie asked around the cigarette in his mouth, as he lifted his lighter to light it.

“Try to piss me off to push me away. And can you not fucking smoke right now, you know I hate it.” Stan steps closer, and reaches for the cigarette. 

Richie pulls it from his mouth and holds it high above his head. “I told you to leave, Stanley.”

“No!” Stan yelled, jumping to grab the cigarette.

And he did.

It took a few seconds before he realized the palm of his hand was burning, but at least the cigarette was out.

Stan dropped the cigarette on the floor with a hiss, his other hand holding his burnt palm in it.

“Shit, Stan! Are you kidding me? Fucking idiot!” Richie wrapped an arm around the shaking boys waist and lead him to the bathroom. Richie turned on the faucet and gently pulled his hand under the running water.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice suddenly much softer than it had been before.

Stan nodded, although soft tears trailed down his cheeks.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Richie shook his head, and reached into the cabinet for a clean towel. 

Stan shrugged, “To get you to listen to me. Once you get in that mode you’re pretty fucking stubborn.” He wiped at his face with his free hand, trying to rid the tears away.

Richie pressed his tongue to his cheek, and moved to raid the medicine cabinet, praying to some unknown god that there would be antibacterial ointment in there. Lord knows what his parents buy and use.

Luckily, he found a small tube that  _wasn’t_  expired, and a band aid. With gentle motions, Richie pulled Stan’s hand out from under the water and dabbed it dry as softly as possible.

“I’m sorry.” Richie whispered, as he turned to wash his own hands really quick. 

“I…you need to talk to me, Rich. I care about you.” Stan’s voice was quiet as well.

“I know.” Richie’s voice cracked, and he dried his own hands off before applying some of the ointment to Stan’s burn. He placed a band aid over the top of it, and released a sigh.

“I mean, I really, really care about you, Richie. If there’s something… I mean, I know there’s something going on. I have for a while, I just didn’t want to push you to tell me. But if it’s getting worse…” Stan let his hand drop loosely next to him, ignoring the sting in favor of his boyfriend.

Richie chose not to speak once more, and instead pulled his boyfriends hand up to his face, and placed a soft kiss above the band aid. His heart was beginning to thump loudly again, because he knew this was the last straw for Stan. He had to tell him.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

He was physically shaking by the time he realized Stan had been trying to get his attention again, and his head snapped to his boyfriend.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not…going to leave you or anything, okay?” Stan told him, wrapping his arms around the taller males waist.

Richie nodded, and swallowed thickly.

He was still scared to speak.

“Show me.” Stan said. “Let me see, and then we can talk.”

Richie nodded once more, tears pricking his eyes as Stanley softly kissed him, before stepping away.

Richie turned to look at himself in the mirror. He always did that when he was in the bathroom. His fingers hooked in Bill’s t-shirt, and he tugged it off before giving himself a second chance to think about it.

He stared. Because like a train wreck, it was scary…but you couldn’t look away from it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depictions of eating disorder symptoms, mentions of child abuse

Hip bones jutted out. The bottom of his rib cage was defined. His shoulders were bony. His spine stuck out. His stomach was caved in. He knew it wasn’t as bad as it could get. He’s looked worse than this before. He looked better now than he did a few months ago.

But it was still bad.

His fingers curled into fists at his sides, and he finally turned his head to look at Stanley.

Stan didn’t speak for a while. His eyes just flicked around wildly, taking in the jagged angles of his boyfriends body. And he finally got it. He finally understood. There was a part of him that was always asking questions, questions he would never voice. But they were answered now.

Finally, his eyes met Richie’s and he bent over to pick up the boy’s shirt. “Why don’t you get changed into something comfortable? I’ll be in there in a second.” He hands Richie the shirt, before leaning over to peck the boy on the lips.

Richie was shocked. He didn’t understand why Stan was acting so calm, but he was happy he wasn’t running away screaming. So he did as asked, and left the bathroom.

Stan felt guilty more than anything. How could he, how could  _they_ , let something like this go on for so long? Stan didn’t have all the answers, but how the hell could not one of them know something like this was going on?

Stan did his best to keep himself from breaking down, his knuckles white were he was holding onto the counter. His eyes stung. What was he doing?

He sucked it up, and mentally prepared himself for this conversation. 

* * *

Stan walked back into Richie’s room as the other was pulling on some sleep pants, and he did his best not to stare. Instead, Stan settled himself on the edge of Richie’s bed and waited patiently, his hands folded in his lap to keep them from shaking.

Richie sat next to him once he had a shirt on, and reached over to take one of Stan’s hands in both of his, thankfully the uninjured one. Neither one of them really knew what to say at this point. It wasn’t the easiest thing to talk about, or think about.

Richie stared down at their hands, his fingers delicately playing with Stan’s as he waited for the other male to talk. Richie just couldn’t come up with words to say. Honestly, it was getting to the point where he was expecting that Stan just wasn’t going to say anything. 

But then the did.

“Why?” The word sounded broken, despite the mask displayed over Stan’s face.

“Why?” Richie repeated, a dry smirk coming onto his face. “It wasn’t my choice, if that’s what you’re thinking. My parent’s barely eat. They don’t keep food in the house. I don’t have money to eat. The only reason I have cigarettes is because Bev buys them for me.” He leaned against Stan’s side, feeling like he needed the other’s warmth pressed against him for support.

“Why didn’t you just  _tell_ us?” 

Richie didn’t have an exact answer for that. There were a lot of reasons he hadn’t told his friends. “I just couldn’t, Stan. We were all kids. It wasn’t something for you guys to deal with.” He chews on his bottom lip.

“ _Kids_? How long has this been going on?!” Stan sounded angry now, something that scared the shit out of Richie.

He swallowed thickly, but answered. “Ever since I was able to walk, pretty much. I mean, they used to keep food in the house when I was younger, but as I got older they got worse, and..I don’t know, Stan. It’s okay.”

“It’s  _not_ okay, Richie! Look at you!” Stan stood from the bed, and pulled Richie up with him. “Look at yourself, and tell me it’s okay. Tell me it would be okay if I looked like this.” He pulled the taller male to the mirror in his room.

Richie stared at himself, tears pooling in his eyes as he tried to imagine Stan in his shoes. But he couldn’t. That would be too painful…He understood what Stan was trying to get at.

“You’re right…but I promise, I look better than I did before.” Richie turned to Stan, and grabbed one of his hands again, needing to hold onto him. Needing to hold onto  _something_. 

“You looked  _worse_? Richie…you’re…you’re not staying here anymore. And even if you do, You’re coming to my house for meals. You need to eat.”

“…okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

_“He should wake up soon.  The midazolam could wear off completely any moment. In any case, it could’ve worn off already, but his body might still be tired.”  
_

_“Thank you, ma’am.”_

* * *

There was a tinge of pain in his stomach that pulled terribly when he lifted his arm to rub his eyes. He didn’t make it that far, before someone grabbed his hand and pulled it back down.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll pull your stitches.” The voice was watery, as if they’d been crying. He didn’t know who it was.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and squinted against the blaring lights. A soft sniffle caught his attention and he turned to look, his automatic response being to make a joke, but his throat was too dry, and slightly sore.

He licked his lips, his tongue getting stuck to the bottom one for a moment before trying again.

“No, just rest. Ma’s going to get the doctor.”

He still didn’t know what was going on, but he remained silent and waited. He couldn’t remember the last thing that had happened, really. He felt that he couldn’t remember anything.

A short woman with dark hair and almond colored skin stepped into the room with a bright white smile and a styrofoam cup in hand, complete with a bendy straw that had a red stripe running down the side. She pressed the button to lift his back up, before handing over the cup.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I am Doctor Royce. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions before I start answering yours?” She asked.

He nodded, sipping generously from the straw.

“Great,” Her smile seemed to only get wider as she lifted a clipboard and drew a pen from her coat pocket. “Can you tell me your name?” 

He paused, his head cocking slightly to one side as he thought it over. Things were still pretty muffled up in his head, but he knew he had a name at least. His mouth moved, lips pursing in a soft o shape, and his tongue touching the roof of his mouth as if automatic. “Errr-” Came from his lips, which sparked something. “Richie. Richard Tozier.” 

“Good. Can you tell me a few of your friends names?”

Richie sniffed in response, his head turning to the boy clutching his hand tightly. He recognized him, definitely. 

“Stanley Uris,” He finally said, before turning back to her. “Except he’s my boyfriend.”

Stan squeezed his hand tighter.

“Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh…Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, and Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“Thank you. Now that we’ve established your memory is working well enough, you’re free to ask any questions you have.”

Richie cleared his throat a bit, and nodded, “Well, I guess I’d like to know why I’m in the hospital…and how long I’ve been here.” 

“We were eating dinner,” Stan piped up, “And you just fell over. You were holding your stomach and crying so we called an ambulance.”

“It’s a very good thing they did. Stanley here filled us in with the fact that you are anorexic. It’s very hard to start eating again after you haven’t for a long time. You ate too much, and it ripped a small hole in your stomach. Small enough that we could save you, but others are not so lucky.” Doctor Royce had lowered the clip board to her side. “You’ve been here for about two weeks. We put you in a medically induced coma to allow your body to heal. We’ve also got a diet plan put together for you once you leave so we wont have this situation again.”

Richie nodded, although very slowly. He’d almost died. He realized that. But it wasn’t all his fault. Sure, maybe he could’ve tried harder to get food most days, but…

He couldn’t play the blame game here.

“You are seventeen, correct?”

Richie looked up at her, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Your parents are in custody at the moment for what they have done to you. Depending on what their sentencing is depends on where you will be staying. For now, the Denbrough’s are going to foster you.”

Richie didn’t know how to feel about that, exactly. He and Bill weren’t on the best terms on one hand, but on the other he was happy to get out of his own house. He was happy they were being generous. 

* * *

A few days later, Richard Tozier was walking down the steps of the hospital and getting into his foster family’s car. He and Bill made up rather quickly, which Richie was happy about. He was currently residing in the guest bedroom of the Denbrough house, but he didn’t know for how long.

Margret and Wentworth Tozier were charged with class 3 felonies on multiple accounts of child neglect. They will both serve five years in prison. 

After finding this out, the Denbrough’s continued fostering Richie up until he was 18, in which case he just stayed there until graduation.

On the topic of Richie and Eddie, Richie apologized to the shorter male profusely after telling the truth. Eddie had been pissed, but then had also tried to kiss him, reading the whole situation wrong. Richie and Eddie still aren’t on the best terms, but they’re civil.

Richie and Stan on the other hand are about to move into an apartment together in Bangor. They decided to stay local for college, rather than separating off. Bangor Community offered programs for both of them, anyhow, so they might as well stay.

Was it mentioned that Richie bought Stan a parakeet for his birthday? No? Well he did. Stan lovingly named the parakeet Claude, and in turn got Richie a fish for their anniversary. Richie named the fish Toast. 

Happiness oozed from Richie Tozier’s pores for years and years to come.

_FIN_


End file.
